


Cybernetics: The Prologue

by Myrellingsi



Series: Cybernetics [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:30:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15892611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrellingsi/pseuds/Myrellingsi
Summary: Amelia Draper, Hank's niece, is glad to be returning to Detroit, despite the less than stellar reason for her trip: injured while working on a deviant case, CyberLife has decided to thank her for her service by outfitting her with their very first prosthetic limb. Despite her suspicions of the company, Amelia embraces her gifts... and not a moment too soon. With her luck, she's bound to get caught up in the deviant uprising, along with her uncle and an... admittedly attractive android investigator.





	1. Home Sweet Home

“You came at a bad time, girlie.”

“Good to see you, too, Uncle Hank.” The young woman smiled openly, embracing her rather disgruntled uncle with one arm. The other hung at her side, limp and far too thin to be flesh and bone. 

“I’m serious, Amelia,” he insisted, grabbing her luggage bags and leading her out to his old, beat up car. “Few weeks ago, we had that android hold that little girl hostage, ya know?”

“Of course I know. It made national television. Maybe international.”

“Yeah, well... we’ve got tons of reports coming in now. And it ain’t just little old grannies saying their android wandered off.” 

Amelia shrugged, looking unconcerned. “Why do you think they sent a team of humans into that rigged building, Uncle? If I were an android, it would have been a simple matter of _repairs.”_ She spat the words out bitterly. “Of course, CyberLife thinks they can make up for it by treating me the same way they would have treated an android in my situation. Oh, she lost an arm? Just attach a new one! Problem solved, no hard feelings, go back to your job like a good little detective....” 

“Then.... why’re you doing it?” 

She weakly lifted her temporary prosthetic.  With androids taking on more and more jobs that exhibited a risk to humans, prosthetics became an obsolete field of advancement. It had easily been a good decade or so since a new prosthetic device had been announced.  “Does this look like the arm of a successful detective? Sure, it's functional… but not enough that they'll take me back at the precinct. My options are to pay a fortune to have something new designed, or pay nothing to help kick off CyberLife’s new… _cyborg_ program.”

Hank scoffed. “No ethical consumption under capitalism, you could say.”

“Something like that.” They had reached his house by then, and Amelia skipped confidently into the building, Hank lugging her bags behind. “Sumo!”

Sumo was a large dog, even larger than when Amelia had last seen him. He clearly hadn’t forgotten her, though, loping towards her and practically vibrating with glee as she burrowed into his considerable fluff. “Have you been taking care of Uncle Hank? What a good boy you are. Yes, you are!” Sumo responded with a muffled bark, clearly soaking up the attention. Hank, on the other hand, just scoffed.

“Damn dog is a menace.” Of course, his statement was quickly nullified when Sumo went to greet him next and his facade shattered. He simply couldn’t deny the dog a few well-earned pets.

“At any rate… looks like Mom was right to be concerned about you.” Amelia gave the cluttered table, complete with an open whiskey bottle, a pointed look.

“I beg to differ."

* * *

She would have loved to think of her trip to Detroit as a vacation, but Amelia’s alarm the next day was a grim reminder that she was here for business. As soon as CyberLife was pleased with how her prosthetic worked, , she would be heading right back to New York. And so, with a tired groan, she turned the alarm off and rolled out of bed. Eight am. To be fair, that was later than she typically rose. 

Amelia took her time preparing for the day ahead, procrastinating to the last moment and spending far too long petting Sumo. It was due only to her procrastination  that she still happened to be in the house when a cell phone on the table began to ring.

“Hank Anderson’s phone.”

_“Amelia, is that you? Hank did say something about picking you up from the airport. I’ll be honest, I sorta thought it was a pathetic attempt to get off work early”_

A small smile graced her lips at the voice of her uncle’s friend, someone who might as well have been a second uncle. “Nope, he was telling the truth this time. How’ve you been, Jeffrey?”

_“As well as I can be, dealing with your uncle every day.”_

An amused snort escaped her. “Is he really that much of a handful?”

Jeffrey Fowler laughed. _“A handful would be understating things. After all, he was due in at seven.”_

It only took a glance out the window for Amanda to realize her uncle hadn't yet departed. Another glance toward the table informed her that he had been up long after she went to bed, finishing that bottle of whiskey. “Yeah, he’s still in bed. I can wake him."

_“That would be great. Stop in to say hello sometime, won’t you?”_

Their farewells were brief, and Amelia set the phone down with a tired sigh, checking the time. She had to be at CyberLife Tower in forty-four minutes. She had enough time. Resigned to the role of her uncle’s new housemaid, she stalked towards her uncle’s room and slammed the door open, watching him jump with petty glee. “Good morning, Uncle Hank. You’re almost two hours late for work.”

“Fuck off,” he replied, throwing a pillow in her direction. Ignoring the attack, Amelia launched one of her own, crossing to the window and throwing the curtains open. Early morning light streamed into the room, and Hank shouted out in discomfort. Clearly, he was already regretting the amount he’d had to drink last night. Sumo, who had followed Amelia, jumped onto the bed with a bark.

“I’m up, I’m up!”

“Good. I have to leave in six minutes if I want to be on time for my appointment, and you need to leave as soon as possible to appease Jeffrey. I’ll get the coffee started for you.”

“Whatever, just get outta here.”

* * *

CyberLife Tower was unnecessarily tall, with more than forty floors above ground and an equal, if not larger, number of floors below the surface. Amelia took a very long moment to gape at the building before entering. A pretty blonde android waited at the door, smiling as her facial recognition picked Amelia out of the crowd.

“Hello, Miss Draper. My name is Chloe, I have been sent to retrieve you for your appointment. Unfortunately, Mr. Harris has to deal with a small emergency, so he has asked me to give you a tour of the Tower.”

“Oh.” Amelia blinked, a little disappointed; she had wanted to get this over with. The sooner she had her new arm outfitted, the sooner she could get back to her previous life and let the explosion fade into the background. Then again, a tour of the Tower could end up being rather interesting. “Of course. That sounds... lovely.”

“Then please, follow me. Feel free to ask as many questions as you like.”

Amelia didn’t hold back; she might not have liked CyberLife as a corporation, but the science behind everything was _fascinating._ Elijah Kamski had somehow managed to perfect creating a being from all synthetic materials. If you asked the right people, he had created _life._ Amelia had read enough in her Classics course back in school to know that always ended one of two ways: really bad, or really... different. Her interest wasn’t purely curiosity driven, however; she couldn’t help dwelling on the thought that she was about to very suddenly be thrust into a world of biocomponents and Thirium. That was the one thing she knew about her new prosthetic; it was heavily based on the designs used on the androids that surrounded her currently.

Having been working their way down from the ground floor, it was a while until Amelia and Chloe reached floor -48, where new android models were being run through simulations to test their features. Amelia stopped at one window in particular, where it seemed a fake crime scene had been set up. An android stood in the middle of it. He was a handsome-looking model, Amelia would admit if pressed. Just enough freckles to appear innocent and sweet, and a rowdy lock of hair that begged to be tucked back into place. The android was relaying to the operator what had theoretically happened in the crime simulation, before pausing and tilting his head. Amelia could have sworn she saw a small smirk lift one side of its mouth. “Of course, that’s only what I am supposed to think. The crime scene was very clearly set up, as evidenced by the artificial blood splatters and lack of serial number or model connected to the Thirium, among other details.”

“That would be useful in an investigation,” Amelia murmured.

“The new RK series model,” Chloe explained. “RK800. Designed to function as a nearly autonomous investigator. This would be the 52nd iteration of the model. It is being prepared in case the currently active android is destroyed.”

“So there’s one out there right now, helping some lucky cop?”

“Yes. If it happens to be destroyed over the course of an investigation, this android will be wiped, before it is synced up with the previous android’s memories, and the investigation can continue unimpeded.”

“That’s... kinda spooky, super useful.” Amelia leaned thoughtfully against the glass, watching as the RK800 continued to converse with the operator, responding to questions about the theoretical crime. Meanwhile, Chloe’s LED spun yellow for a moment, and she smiled at her charge. “Ms. Draper, I have just been informed that they are ready for you.”


	2. The Cyborg Program

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I don't know a lot about prosthetics, but I DO love Culver's.

Jonathan Harris was precisely the type of man to be expected at the head of a large company like CyberLife; old, white, and unsettling in a way Amelia couldn’t quite place. She put the feeling aside to shake the man’s hand, offering him a smile.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“Now now, no need for the formalities. It’s the least we can do, after all. You were very successful in leading that team to capture the deviant prototype who rigged the bombs.”

Amelia lifted an eyebrow, hoping to gain just a little more information on the case that had taken her arm from her. “So he  _ was _ a prototype.”

“Yes. An RK700. The RK series was designed to be more... autonomous than our other designs.” Harris smiled, a flat, emotionless smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It made Amelia think of the androids that the man sold. He seemed less human than even them in that moment. The moment was broken when the elevator door dinged and he continued to talk, leading her onto a floor that she and Chloe hadn’t yet toured. “Clearly, it was  _ too _ autonomous.”

“So you built the RK800.” He seemed surprised she knew that, the question written on his face. “I saw one testing when Chloe was giving me the tour. I couldn’t help thinking he would be rather useful in certain investigations. I can’t tell you how many times an investigation has been impeded by a backed-up lab”

“That is the idea. We currently have one of the prototypes investigating a murder. With your uncle, actually.”

“Really. He didn’t mention it.”

“I’m not surprised. He seems to dislike androids.”

Amelia hummed thoughtfully. “He has... reason. A twisted reason, but it’s there.”

“What of you, Ms. Draper?”   


“Me?”

“What are your thoughts on androids?”

She smiled humorlessly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Harris nodded, then opened a door. Inside stood a man and a woman, standing beside a pedestal and poking at....

An arm.

“Is that it?” Amelia asked, her distaste for the corporation temporarily forgotten. She took a few steps forward, inspecting it. For all intents and purposes, it looked exactly like an android arm when there was no skin covering it. Sleek, white plastic that seemed to thrum with energy, ending in slender fingers that suggested this prosthetic would be like no others before it.

“It is,” the woman confirmed, flashing Amelia a winning smile. “I’m Dr. Maria Rivera, this is Kaleb Posh, the bioengineer. You must be Amelia.”

“In the flesh. For the most part,” she joked, but her eyes were still on the limb. “Speaking of flesh... does this have any?”

Kaleb nodded, reaching out and pressing something in the control panel accessible via the joint where it would attach to Amelia’s body. Fake skin spread across the surface of the plastic, leaving a... disturbingly human-looking arm. Unable to help herself, Amelia reached out to touch it. It felt...  _ real. _ A little more firm than a typical human arm. Gone were the days of excess arm fat jiggling as she ran. That wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily.

“This is so strange.”

“There are a few features we’ve integrated to assist in your duties,” Harris informed her. “You mentioned interest in the RK800... so I think you’ll enjoy this.”

Amelia eagerly gestured for him to elaborate, wondering what features he possibly could have integrated into a simple arm. It turned out that it had many features, and she doubted she would ever remember them. It allowed interfacing with technology, as well as containing a built in tablet and phone, and a variety of other programs she couldn’t ever imagine using.

“And one more thing,” Kaleb added, pulling out a small box. “These technically aren’t necessary... but neither are all of those other features. I got a little carried away.”

Amelia opened the box, surprised to find a set of contacts. “I... have perfect vision.”

“I know. Those connect to the computer in the arm. They allow for facial recognition, and will report the status of your arm to you if it ever needs servicing.” He smirked. “Among other things. I’ll leave it to you to experiment with them.”

“That is so fucking cool,” she admitted, carefully tucking the box away. “I thought that sort of technology had been dropped. Too difficult to create micro-tech that was compatible with a contact lens.”

“Yes, well... the lenses themselves are an entirely new material. It had always been an interest of mine, and you’ll be the first human to test it out. It’s been tested in animals and in androids, of course, but I’m excited to see what you think.”

“Thank you. This is... above what I expected.”

Harris laughed. “Don’t thank us until we’ve got everything attached and running, maybe.”

“Yes... how will this be going?”

Dr. Rivera took over. “Your current prosthetic will be removed first, as well as the mount. A new mount will then be placed. There are five major nerves connecting your body to your arm. Due to the nature of the arm, each will need to be connected individually to ensure you have a full range of motion and sensory input. The connection will be made to the mount, rather than the prosthetic itself, allowing it to be removed without much discomfort in the future. All in all, the procedure should take no more than a few hours.”

“After that, we’ll run a few diagnostics and simulations,” Kaleb continued. “If everything checks out, you’ll be set to go for the day. Typical rehabilitation for a prosthetic tends to be six months or more, but considering that this arm is essentially just... another arm... we anticipate that your recovery should be easily accomplished in a few weeks at most. You should be able to return to your usual duties in around two months, but we’ll make a more specific decision after some physical therapy.”

“That sounds fair.”

Dr. Rivera smiled. “Are you ready?”

“I am.”

“Then follow me.”

* * *

 

Sitting in a chair for almost three hours was not Amelia’s idea of a fun time. Luckily, Dr. Rivera didn’t seem to mind her and Kaleb chatting as she worked. For the most part, it was about the arm. She learned that it ran on Thirium, which she should have anticipated. It could be added to the arm via a small port in the elbow, much like an IV drip, though much more efficient. Because of this, the mount had been a necessity, whereas most other prosthetics these days were attached directly to the remaining bone. That was... slightly inconvenient, in her opinion, but like everything else for this project, Kaleb assured her that a steady supply of Thirium would be sent at no cost to her. He also informed her that it would be in her best interest to run regular diagnostics on the device. She could easily do so using the handy contacts he had gifted her. Though she would get an automatic alert if there was something severe wrong, smaller issues, such as minor coding or wiring anomalies, were not monitored as closely. They couldn’t be; it took far too much computing energy. Interestingly, the same went for androids; because not all systems could be closely monitored, they were programmed to run regular self checks. She was yet again struck by how...  _ strange _ this was going to be. As if she herself were about to become part android.

She hadn’t quite been wrong earlier, in jokingly calling this the cyborg program.

“You’re all set,” Dr. Rivera finally said at the end of the operation, injecting a counter to the anaesthetic used previously. Feeling slowly returned to the stub of an arm and... though she had known it would happen... to Amelia’s arm. Her prosthetic arm, that shouldn’t feel so human. Caught up in her awe, she slowly moved the plastic fingers, marveling in how easy, how natural it was. If she hadn’t been looking, she would have been sure she had only imagined losing her arm in that explosion. She wondered if she’d be able to tell a difference when the skin had been activated.

To Amelia’s absolute awe, just the thought summoned the fake skin.

The skin was, as with androids, a synthetic material secreted from the plastic beneath to simulate real skin. Coupled with the texture of the plastic underneath, even running her real hand across it showed little to no indication that this wasn’t just as real. She moved her hand slowly up the prosthetic, pausing at the seam between her real skin and the fake skin.

It was seamless.

If it weren’t for the scar marring it, she even might have called it flawless.

“I had the skin designed to naturally continue the scar a little past the connection so that it seemed more organic,” Kaleb explained when he noticed her hesitation. “I can adjust the settings so that it doesn’t display the scar, but then you’ll have just a straight line instead.”

“No, this... this is good,” Amelia forced out. Her throat seemed a little blocked, her body betraying her emotions. The scar wasn’t the prettiest, yes, but she would take it over the lack of an entire arm any day. Deciding not to dwell on that particular aspect any longer, she thanked Dr. Rivera, who needed to excuse herself for the day.

“Can I test out some of its capabilities?” Amelia asked Kaleb, unable to reign in her excitement. He chuckled, clearly caught up in it.

“Not quite yet, unfortunately. Diagnostics first. I would like to do a scan first. The new features required a few new neural connections, so it might take a few days for your brain to catch up.”

“Only a few days?”

“Yes. The new connections basically replace old connections that are less essential to a robotic arm. For example... take your human hand. Extend all your fingers... good. Now, you can attempt to over-extend them, but it’s neither a common motion, nor a necessary one. It serves no purpose. Doing the same with your prosthetic will summon the tablet extension. Likewise, there’s no reason for you to clench your fist very tight, even when throwing a punch. You could, of course, just use it to punch, but continue to clench, and you’ll pull up a defense mechanism. I’ll allow you to experiment with some of it later, but I think you’ll agree that discovering the features for yourself is all part of the fun. And eventually, you should be able to pull up everything with just a thought, or less, if everything works out. It’ll be as natural as walking.

“Like how I brought up the skin.”

“Yes. That was... actually unexpected. I anticipated it taking you several days at least to do so, but I suppose that’s a good sign. Now, I believe Mr. Harris will be waiting for us to run diagnostics....”

She took the cue, following him down the hall and studying the new arm the entire time. Sure enough, Harris awaited them, congratulating Amelia briefly on the successful operation and informing her that she would continue to work with Dr. Rivera and Kaleb in the following days before leaving shortly after the diagnostic finished with a positive outcome. Kaleb and Amelia spent a short time going over the basics of the arm, making sure it was working smoothly, before she was dismissed for the day. It was nearly five when she reached her uncle’s house, a large paper bag of Culver’s in hand.

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Hank said as she entered, already seated at the table with a mug of something. Whiskey again, if the new bottle beside him was any indicator.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not the one who had to fast for twelve hours.” She placed the new hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. “Notice anything different, Uncle Hank?”

His eyes flickered to her new arm. He had obviously known that today was the day she’d be getting the prosthetic, but decided to play along. “Dunno. New haircut?”

“Uncle!”

“No? New makeup, then. New clothes?”

“Oh, come on?”

“Ah, I’m just playing with you, kiddo,” he said with a grin. “Nice shiny new arm you’ve got there.”

“Yeah, check this out.” She slipped into the chair opposite him, moving the food aside to lay her arm on the table. With a brief thought, the skin began receding, leaving the android-esque plastic clearly visible. “Isn’t that amazing?”

“Kinda... creepy,” Hank muttered. “Like them androids.”

“Are you surprised? It’s CyberLife.”

“Yeah, but... put that thing back.”

She laughed, allowing the skin to resurface. “Look, I hate CyberLife and everything it stands for, but... this thing is fucking amazing.”

“It’s an arm.”

“Didn’t have one of those a few hours ago, Uncle Hank. Anyways, they went insane with it. This is all they had to do, make a realistic arm, but look....” She held out her palm, attempting to stretch the fingers back just a little too much, as Kaleb had mentioned. A holographic screen burst into existence, displaying what appeared to be the welcoming screen of a brand new device. “Oh. Guess I’ve got to get that set up. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“I suppose that’s a little... handy.”

The pun came out of nowhere, and Amelia froze for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I can’t believe you just said that. I’m taking your whiskey as punishment.”

He protested when she knocked back the remaining whiskey in his mug, and protested  _ severely _ when she took the bottle and stashed it away, but for some reason, he was quick to forget when she began talking animatedly about her day. It had been a long time since he’d actually seen his niece. Three years, in fact, for the funeral. He quickly brushed that thought from his mind, instead trying to recall the times from her childhood. She’d been a good kid. Still was. If he could get his hand on the fucking android that had nearly killed her....

Well. The android cases he was working on right now would have to be enough.

Content for the first time in a while, Hank listened to his niece chat with a slight upturn to his lips, responding as necessary.

“And, well, here we are,” she finished. “Anyways, what about you, Uncle? Anything interesting at the precinct?”

“As a matter of fact, seems I’m following in your footsteps,” he said gruffly, taking a long swig of the soda Amelia had gotten him and briefly wishing for that sharp burn of alcohol down his throat. “Got myself tangled up in some deviant business of my own. There was a homicide last month.”

Amelia’s eyes widened slightly, and she leaned forward. “What happened?”

“Some idiot got into his head that it was a good idea to smash up his android. Didn’t get far before the thing snapped. Stabbed him 28 times. Don’t envy the bastard much.”

“Damn. Did you catch the android?”

“Yeah.”

The answer was short, bitter, and Amelia figured there was more behind it, and so she asked. “How?”

Hank sighed. He shoved a fry in his mouth, chewing slowly before responded. “CyberLife decided to send some fucking android out to follow me around like some kinda lost puppy. Damn thing is good at his job, though. He figured out the android was still in the house and cornered it in the attic.”

“The RK800.”

“Yeah, that thing. How’d you know about that?”

“Mr. Harris mentioned that he’d be working with you.”

“I’m hoping that’s the last I see of that smug motherfucker. Although....” Hank scratched his beard thoughtfully. “He ran a damn good interrogation last week. Too bad the android bashed its head in.”

“What?”

“The suspect. Bashed its own head in on the table when we tried to take it back to the cell.”

“Holy shit.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Why would it do that?”

“Connor said something about thinking he might’ve miscalculated its stress level. Personally... I think it felt guilty.”

Silence hit the room then.

They both knew what that kind of guilt felt like. The guilt of believing they had been responsible for another’s death.

“Can I come into the station with you tomorrow?” Amelia finally asked, tossing the remains of her chicken strips at Sumo and ruffling his ears. “I don’t have to be at CyberLife until three, thought I might say hello to Jeffrey.”

“So long as you aren’t plannin’ on waking me so damn early again.”

“Nine.”

“Eleven.”

“...nine.”

“Ten..”

“Nine-thirty it is.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Love you, too, Uncle Hank.” She skipped around the table to hug him, just as she had as a little girl, before wandering off to bed. Hank sat there a moment longer. His eyes drifted to the liquor cabinet, temptation forcing him to his feet, but something stopped him as he reached for the door.

Not tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh, decided to go see Crazy Rich Asians instead of editing. So... let me know if you see anything that needs fixing... or if you know anyone who wants to beta this bc it needs it


	3. Team Building

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that you're prepared, this chapter involves the scene from The Bridge where Connor and Hank discuss Russian Roulette, and thus touches on Hank's suicidal tendencies.

Amelia’s alarm went off at nine the next morning. She took a few minutes to marvel again at the replacement arm; she’d been without a truly functional arm for about a month now, and it had been just enough time to get used to the idea that she might never have one again. Or at least, not one that would work exactly how it should. It had been enough time that she’d been resigned to learning how to write with her left hand. Enough to know that she’d never play violin the same way. That she’d never be able to do anything but desk jobs at NYPD. The letter from CyberLife a week ago had given her a shred of hope that she’d dared not cling onto, but now, staring at her complete reflection in the mirror, she grasped onto that hope with every fiber of her being.

The fact that her new hand was steady enough to apply _killer_ eyeliner with a flawless wing was just the icing on top. She might have gone a little more dramatic than usual, just to show it off.

Makeup applied, clothes on, Amelia finally woke her uncle before heading into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She had already gotten through a mug and a half before Hank stumbled into the room.

“Too fuckin’ early,” he slurred, snatching the mug of coffee that Amelia had prepared for him and pouring another a few moments later. “Why the fuck do you wanna get there so early anyways?”

“It’s nearly ten. That’s not very early.” Amelia frowned as writing began scrolling across her vision.

_Sync in progress... sync done... processing data..._

_MATCH  
_ _ANDERSON, HANK  
_ _Born: 09/06/1985 // Police Lieutenant  
_ _Criminal record: None_

That might get annoying, if she couldn’t figure out how to control it.

“Is for me.” Hank downed the second mug. He didn’t even notice Amelia’s eyes go slightly out of focus as she read the profile imprinted on her vision, instead glaring at his phone when it began to ring. After a few moments it went silent.

“Let’s go,” Amelia decided. The words had quickly been dismissed when she glanced away from them, not showing up again. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that was Jeffrey again. Do you really go into work late every day?”

He shrugged, getting to his feet and throwing a jacket on. “‘Snot late if they expect it.”

“I... disagree. Strongly.” Regardless, she didn’t continue to argue, instead donning her own jacket. The drive to the precinct was short, and it wasn’t long after ten that the two arrived. The moment Amelia stepped into the building and focused on one person’s face, words again began scrolling across her vision again. It only took the walk through the lobby for her to figure out how to activate and deactivate the recognition software at will, to her great relief.

“Shit,” Hank muttered as they reached the open plan offices. Amelia followed his eyes towards where she knew his desk to be, spotting a familiar android. Even so, she couldn’t help letting the new recognition software do its job.

_Connor  
_ _RK800  #313 248 317 -51  
_ _Owned by: CyberLife_

Well, the name was news. At least she could stop referring to it as ‘the android.’

“It’s good to see you again, Lieutenant.”

Hank looked the very picture of exasperated, and Amelia fondly recalled the many times that same expression had been turned on her as a child. “Ah, Jesus....”

“And who might this be?”

“Amelia Draper.” Amelia held out a hand to the android, who shook it hesitantly. Would it be considered strange to shake hands with an android? She had never been _introduced_ to one, exactly. Usually, they would be sitting at a reception desk, or serving her dinner. In one case, one was dedicated to blowing her up when she had met it. Not exactly situations when you’d shake even a human’s hand. “I’m Hank’s niece.”

“A pleasure to meet you. My name is Connor.”

“Hank!” All three turned at the shout, spotting Captain Jeffrey Fowler leaning out his door. “In my office. Amelia, good to see you. Give us a moment?”

“Of course.”

_CPT. FOWLER, JEFFREY  
_ _Born: 08/08/1982 // Police Captain  
_ _Criminal record: None_

Connor’s eyes followed Hank for a moment, as if intending to follow, but in the end, his curiosity of Amelia seemed to win out.

“I didn’t realize Lieutenant Anderson had any family in Detroit,” he said, scanning her. A light buzz seemed to run through her prosthetic arm.

_SGT. DRAPER, AMELIA  
_ _Born: 02/15/2010 // Police Sergeant  
_ _Criminal record: None_

“You’re a sergeant?”

“I am,” Amelia confirmed, leaning casually against her uncle’s desk. “On the NYPD. I’m just visiting Detroit for a few weeks while I’m on leave.”

“On leave for what?”

“Oh... I was injured in my last case. No big deal, but I’ve got a lot of time off at the moment.”

“I see.” Connor’s LED whirled for a moment, as if he was choosing his next words carefully. “Can I ask you a question about Lieutenant Anderson?”

Amelia lifted an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“How do I get him to like me?”

The question was so utterly unexpected that Amelia couldn’t help bursting into laughter. Connor had been interesting enough to her, but in that moment he had seemed both so earnest and yet so, _so_ oblivious that it was hard not to laugh. How curious, that the android built to catch deviants would appear the most human.

“I apologize, did I say something wrong?”

“No. No, don’t apologize. I simply didn’t expect you to ask that.” Amelia glanced toward the glass office, where it seemed her uncle was getting rather worked up. “He’s... been in a difficult place for the past few years. I wouldn’t be surprised if he blamed androids in part.”

“Yes, he has expressed a certain... distaste for my kind.”

“But you’ve been programmed with a social module, haven’t you? And they’ve certainly made you more... _human-like_ than other series.”

“I am designed to work alongside humans, after all. The perfect partner.”

“Just... give him time. Don’t pester him too much... but don’t be a pushover. And I know how easy it is for you to just look up everything about him, but maybe don’t do that. Humans tend to find that kind of creepy and like it better when people get to know them more naturally. Through conversation. Observation.”

“I am not ‘people,’ Ms. Draper.”

“Then why do you want my uncle to like you?” she challenged.

“I....” The briefest hint of yellow flashed on Connor’s LED. “If the two of us get along, it will be easier for me to complete my mission.”

“Well, regardless, I wish you luck. Uncle Hank is a bristly character at the best of times... but he’s got a good heart.”

“Yes, I think you may be right.”

The door to the office slammed open, and both beings watched as Hank stormed out before sitting in his chair. Amelia winked at Connor before heading toward Jeffrey’s office and knocking.

“Come on in.” He greeted her with a hug and a tired smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” she agreed. “I’m a fully fledged sergeant now. They’ve got me running part of the terrorist division.”

Jeffrey whistled, leaning back in his chair. “Impressive. So that’s how you got in the way of that building exploding, huh?”

Amelia winced at the memory. “That’s about it. I’m glad CyberLife decided it was their fault. I got a new arm out of it... you got a new detective.”

Jeffrey looked out the glass to where Connor and Hank were now sitting across from each other, Hank very clearly trying to ignore his new android partner, and he sighed. “Not sure how much a blessing that is. Sure, it might be a walking forensics lab, but I’m worried it’ll be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Uncle Hank seemed pretty furious.”

“Really? Did he?” the captain asked sarcastically, earning an apologetic grin from Amelia.

“I’ll see if I can warm him up to the idea more later. Maybe I can come up with some bullshit cyborg and android parallel.”

He snorted with laughter, and Amelia was glad to see a little of his former stress melt away. “God, I’d pay to see that, kiddo. Cyborg... you’ve always been an interesting one.”

“I try.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come here.”

The second hug was more loose, familiar, reminiscent of from when she was a child, and Amelia welcomed it before excusing herself, knowing she was a distraction, and he had work to do. She shut the door softly, reaching her uncle again just as he was shoving Connor up against his desk.

“Uncle!” she snapped, causing the man to let go of Connor’s collar. “Really?”

“Stay out of--”

“Lieutenant?” Chris cautiously approached, eyes flickering to Amelia as if hoping she might step in and relieve him. “Sorry to disturb you... I have some information on the AX400 that killed the guy last night. It’s been sighted in the Ravendale district.”

“I’m on it.” Hank didn’t even bother apologizing, to either Connor or Amelia, before leaving. Connor straightened his jacket, and Amelia gave him a sympathetic look.

“Like I said. Bristly.”

“Yes... I believe I did what you said not to and... _pestered_ him. I will be more careful in the future.”

“Uh huh. In the meantime, you should probably join him.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve got an appointment soon. I hope to see you again in the future.”

The LED whirled again. “I do, too.”

Did he. Now that was odd... and not very android-like.

* * *

 The first day of physical therapy went well, and it continued to progress well. After a particularly long session, which had been in part the fault of Mr. Harris asking Amelia to stay so he could see her progress in person, Maria and Kaleb asked Amelia to join them for dinner--on the company dime, of course.

“Eat as much as possible, and bring some home,” Kaleb said with a grin as they entered. “My goal is to see what their limit is.” An android hostess, a typical ST400, met them at the door, informing them that it was a 15 minute wait. Before long, the three found themselves seated at a small round table, a bottle of sake open in front of them and plenty of sushi on the way. With the Tower behind them, they seemed to forget about CyberLife, instead discussing more personal interests. Maria seemed to be the sporty type. She played basketball with a group of friends on Thursdays, and Amelia and Kaleb were welcome to join in. No, it didn’t matter if they were bad; they could always play for the opposite team, she assured them. Kaleb, on the other hand, was a complete and utter nerd who had a LARP session coming up that weekend. When Amelia mentioned her DnD group and fencing club, the two joked that she was like the perfect halfway point between them.

With more sake, the conversation twisted away from polite small talk to more heavy topics. What they thought about President Warren’s most recent policies. The imminent war with Russia. Eventually, though, light with inebriation, there was only so much they could discuss seriously. It was favorite animals now, and childhood stories, and by the time Amelia made it back to her uncle’s home, it was late.

The broken window was the first thing she noticed upon entering her uncle’s home, sobering her up immediately. She immediately fell back on her training, and the contacts in her eyes seemed to register the change. Amelia studied the window glass first, noting the pattern. Virtual points and sketches lit up her vision, reconstructing the way the glass would have fallen. It had been struck from the outside, in one location, but the pattern the shards had fallen in wasn’t quite natural, suggesting someone or something had displaced them. The reconstruction considered this information, then displayed a simply drawn figure smashing the glass with an elbow and then climbing in through the opening. No blood on the glass, so it was likely an android. Likely _Connor._ She’d gotten to know the RK600 a little recently, stopping by the precinct a few times. Hank wouldn’t admit it, but he’d begun to form a certain fondness for him, and Amelia was much the same. There was just something about him that made him seem... well, more alive than even some humans.

Amelia’s eyes followed the path of a few stray shards of glass to the other side of the table. A bottle of Black Lamb was upturned, a good half of the bottle consumed and the rest on the ground beside...

A revolver. The glowing words in her vision informed her that a single bullet remained, and that it would have been the next chamber to be discharged.

“Oh, Hank,” she whispered. Black Lamb was one of his favorites. And the revolver....

She had known he was in a bad place, but Russian Roulette was worse than she’d thought. If she hadn’t been out with Maria and Kaleb....

But nothing had happened. Connor had stopped by, probably to drag Hank off on a case, and the two had left the scene untouched for her to discover. Amelia texted Hank quickly, asking him to let her know that he was safe before stooping to the ground with a broom and dustpan. Time to clean up this mess.

She had only meant to sop up the whiskey all over the floor and sweep up the glass before Sumo cut himself on it, but that had led to the table, which led to the counter, which led to the dishes, and soon enough, most of the house had been cleaned. Hank had texted at some point, letting her know he was on a case with Connor as she had suspected. For some reason, she wasn’t any more relieved, holding the gun in her hand. Finally, she tucked it away with her own things.

It wasn’t his service weapon, anyways. He wouldn’t need it.

Around one-thirty, she got a call from an unfamiliar number. She debated ignoring it and just going to sleep, but something told her to pick it up.

“Amelia Draper speaking.”

_“It’s Connor.”_

Fear spiked through her, the breath leaving her lungs. “Connor. Is... what....”

_“Lieutenant Anderson and I recently finished our case. He is... rather drunk, and I am loathe to admit I allowed him to get into his car.”_

Amelia groaned, falling into a chair. “Oh, god.”

_“I would appreciate if you could at least let me know when he reaches home.”_

“I... yeah, I can... where were you?”

_“A... park. He should be there in approximately seven minutes maintaining the speed he left at. But his parting words leave me to believe he won’t be returning home immediately. Something about getting drunker.”_

“Well, fuck.” Amelia fell silent, going over her options for a moment. Hank wouldn’t be answering his phone in this mindset, she was sure. She could just wait for him to come home, assuming he didn’t crash into anything, or.... “Alright. Thanks, Connor. I’m going to go find him and make sure he gets home safe.”

_“Thank you. I have found that I am... quite concerned for his safety.”_

It took about twenty minutes for Amelia to find the bar that Hank had stopped in. It took exactly one for her to march in, fold her arms, and make Hank suddenly appear to be very guilty.

“Hey,” he mumbled, burying his nose in the drink. Amelia sighed, unable to bring herself to yell at him like she had fully intended. Not when his eyes were drooping sadly and his body was hunched with grief. Instead, she sat beside him and asked the bartender for two glasses of ice water before taking Hank’s remaining drink. He didn’t even argue, and Amelia studied him. The contacts could give her basic information about people, maybe they could--

_BAC: 0.17%_

Yes, that’s what she needed. “Uncle Hank, drink some water. Please.”

“Wa’er’s fer pussies,” he slurred, but did as told anyways. So he was past the violent drunkenness. That was good. She didn’t exactly want him pulling his gun on her right now.

“Wanna talk about what happened?”

“Mm. Had a case t’night. Las’ night? Wha’ time issit?”

A tiny sigh left her mouth. “Nearly two in the morning.”

“Las’ nigh’ then,” he said decisively. “Sex clubs. ‘Droids, ya know?”

“Oh. The Eden Club?”

Hank squinted at his niece. “How’d ya know tha’?”

“There’s a branch in New York. Had to cover a case there a bit ago.”

“Huh. Anyway... some asshole started beatin’ one o’ the girls, killed her, ‘n’ another killed him righ’ back.”

“Sounds like he deserved it.”

“Yeah....”

“Drink some more water.”

He did, and Amelia was glad to see a little more coherence had slipped into his eyes. He was still nowhere near sober, of course, and probably wouldn’t be for a long time, but the water would do him good in the morning. Afternoon. Whenever he chose to wake up and face the music.

“Yeah, so... so, Connor an’ I, we went after the girl. The one tha’ killed the man, not the dead one. An’ we found her with another girl....” Hank hiccuped swaying slightly on his stool. “God, ‘Lia, they... they really seemed like they loved each other, ya know?”

“So they were both androids?”

“Uh huh. Shoulda seen ‘em. Beat us up pretty good, an’ ran off holdin’ hands ‘n’ all. An’ then Connor got ‘em in his sights, an’... an’ he didn’ shoot.”

Hank said this with such frustration that Amelia almost thought he had _wanted_ Connor to shoot, and her brow wrinkled in confusion. “That’s... good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Tha’s the thing, Lia. He’s always talkin’ ‘bout how he’s a machine an’ all, bu’ he couldn’... couldn’ shoot those two girls.” Hank shook his head, knocking back the rest of his water. “Couldn’ even tell me why.”

A slight smile quirked Amelia’s lips. “You’re starting to see it, aren’t you? That not all androids... are _just_ androids. They have humanity.”

“Dunno if you can call it tha’.” Hank frowned, looking at his glass of just ice. “Jimmy....” The bartender poured more water in the glass, winking at Amelia, and Hank groaned in disappointment. “Traitor.”

“So after the case,” Amelia prompted. “What happened?”

“Got drunk. Well. Drunker. Was alrea’y drunk.” Hank shook his head. “Wen’ to Cole’s park. I go there sometimes, ya know? Helps me feel close. Haven’t gone as much recently, but the anniversary was a bit ago, couldn’t help myself. An’ Connor was there, fuckin’ poodle that he is, an’... an’ I put a gun to his head.”

Amelia stilled. “Uncle Hank....”

“Didn’ shoot. I couldn’. Not when I saw... his eyes.” And then he was crying, and Amelia had no clue what to do, because her uncle, _Hank Anderson,_ was crying, and the only time she’d seen her uncle cry was at the funeral three years ago. After a moment of hesitation, she handed Jimmy more than enough to cover drinks and a tip before helping her uncle outside.

“Keys?” she demanded, hand out. He handed them over, slouching into the passenger seat and glaring out the window.

“Can’t believe you took my drink.”

“Yeah. Hid everything at home, too.”

_“What?!”_

“Including the revolver. No more Russian Roulette.”

“Aw, ‘Lia... never actually....”

“Uncle Hank, you should have told me it was getting this bad. Or... _someone._ I know you had been having trouble at work, and yeah, you were drinking a little too much, but this is... this is a completely different story.”

He shook his head. “Didn’ wanna worry you. You got other things ta worry ‘bout. D’ya think Con’s mad at me?”

Amelia laughed softly. “How do you think I knew to come out and find you? He called when you left the park. Said he was worried about you driving.”

“Fuckin’ smug ass bitch.”

“I like him.”

“‘Course you do. You’re....” He waved his hand around. “You.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve always been into the goofy ones.”

She snorted, glancing over at his slumped form fondly. “You’re drunk.”

“Really. Couldn’ tell.”

Amelia smiled as she parked the car, helping her uncle again as he stumbled towards the house. Sumo was there to greet them with a wagging tail, and Hank looked around in shock.

“‘s clean.”

“Yeah. Didn’t have much else to do when I got home. I already sent out a repair order for the window, so don’t shoot if you see a few androids going in and out tomorrow. Let’s get you out of those clothes and into bed.”

“Don’ wanna.”

“Too fucking bad.”

In the end, Amelia didn’t get to sleep until around four, but her alarm woke her at seven, and she rather reluctantly got up, barely making it to the Detroit Police Department by eight.

“I’d like to speak with Captain Jeffrey Fowler,” she said to the android at the front desk, unable to go further into the building without Hank as a guide.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. Just inform him that Amelia Draper wants to speak with him.”

The LED on the android’s temple spun. “Captain Fowler, this is the front desk. Yes... there’s an Amelia Draper here who would like to speak with you... right away, sir.” The LED stopped whirring, and the android smiled. “You can head on back. He says you know where to go”

“Thanks.”

Jeffrey had clearly just gotten in for the day, hanging his coat as Amelia arrived. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Amelia didn’t wait to be invited to sit, flopping down into the chair opposite of Jeffrey and rubbing her tired eyes. “Hank won’t be coming in today. He had a... rougher night than usual.”

Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Didn’t he run the Eden case?”

“Yes. I got him home by three-thirty... Jeffrey, he’s been doing bad, hasn’t he. Since Cole.”

The captain nodded, tapping at his terminal aimlessly to avoid her eyes. “We gave him some leniency at first. Thought he’d get better. But he hasn’t.”

“Right. I... I had been thinking about it for a while, but when I was given the deviant program, there was never a chance. Now that I’m here anyways, I’ve decided to move back to Detroit.”

Jeffrey’s eyebrows shot up, and any pretense that he had work to do vanished. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. According to CyberLife, I’ll be here for physical therapy for at least two months anyways. They already gave my position to another officer back in the NYPD. And I think Uncle Hank really needs someone now. Probably has for a while.” She frowned. “I should have come back sooner.”

“So you’re looking to transfer, then.”

“How quickly can it be done?”

Jeffrey sighed. “You won’t be a sergeant anymore.”

“I know.”

“If your old department agrees, we can have it done by the end of the week. I’ll have you take a test, as well. Do well enough, I’ll see if I can get you bumped to detective, at least.”

“Thank you, Jeffrey.”

“Yeah, yeah. Call the NYPD, let them know you plan to transfer. I’ll let you know when you can come back for the test.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know very little about how a police department works, so I made Amelia a sergeant since she led that mission back with the NYPD, but also I figured she wouldn't have made lieutenant yet at her age. Not to mention apparently most departments don't let transfers keep their rank, so she isn't going back down too far. Also I'm still looking for a beta if anyone is interested. I would love for someone to absolutely tear this to pieces. Make me cry. Please.


	4. Shots Fired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia gives Connor a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo friends! The next chapter will be late due to getting ready to move back to school this weekend!

_Meet me at the Institute of Arts. 7pm._

Amelia shuffled nervously in front of the building, blowing on her hands in an effort to free them from the prevailing November chill. It was five to seven. She hadn’t ever gotten a response to her message, but something told her it would be worth the wait.

At exactly seven, and not a moment later, Connor’s distinctive silhouette appeared out of the dusk, his LED providing enough light to identify him. Amelia couldn’t hold back her smile, waving to get his attention.

“Ms. Draper. I hope you haven’t been out here long. You’ll catch a cold.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Haven’t been sick in ten years. And seriously, call me Amelia. Ms. Draper sounds like some sort of kindergarten teacher.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Connor’s lips as the two entered the building. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna be associated with a bunch of snotty little kids.”

“I think you would work wonderfully with children.”

Amelia snorted, reaching the admissions desk, where an android waited. “Glad you weren’t my career counselor, then. Shit, I don’t live here anymore, let me dig out....”

“Payment accepted. Please enjoy your visit.” The android waved them past the desk before Amelia could even grab her wallet.

Amelia’s eyes slid suspiciously to Connor’s LED, which was returning to blue after a very round of yellow. “I could have paid.”

“It wasn’t necessary. CyberLife will miss thirty dollars far less than you will.”

“What’ll they think when they check your history and see you bought two tickets to an art museum?”

“I’m sure I’ll find out eventually. In the meantime, may I ask why we _are_ here?”

“I....” Amelia hesitated, allowing her eyes to wander and land on an exhibit of Carl Manfred’s works. “Manfred is friends with Elijah Kamski, right? Think either of them know anything about deviants?”

“It is... a faint possibility,” Connor replied, letting himself be dragged towards the paintings. “Is this why we’re here? A very unlikely chance to catch a lead?”

“No,” Amelia admitted, “but it’s an excuse. I actually... wanted to talk about Hank.”

Connor’s eyebrows shot up, one half-obstructed by that ever-present unruly curl. “What about him?”

“Just... thank you, Connor.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you know about Cole?”

“Yes. Hank told me a little bit about him.”

Amelia blinked in surprise, though she was relieved that she wouldn’t have to break her uncle’s confidence. “It’s been three years, now. I had moved to New York a few years before it happened, but I used to visit regularly. Cole was a sweet kid. Hank adored him. The three of us would play Cops and Robbers together. But when Cole died... I feel bad. I should have kept visiting. But I couldn’t bring myself to. It just wasn’t the same, you know? So I... I missed Uncle Hank’s spiral. I didn’t realize until a few days ago how bad it had all gotten. I should have been here, Connor. He was there for me all through my childhood, and I couldn’t get myself to fly over here to just check in on him once or twice. I think you’ve been helping him a lot. He sees something in you that he hasn’t seen in anyone in a long time, and I think... I think if you weren’t here, I might have been too late to bring him back. So thank you, Connor, because whether or not you really think you’re just a soulless machine, you’ve given the most important person in my life reason to live again.”

She fell silent, and the two walked softly amongst the art while deep in thought until Connor finally stopped in front of an image that was starkly different from all of Carl Manfred’s paintings. A man... an _android,_ screaming in agony, red LED bright against his temple and a blue triangle patch attached to his very skin. There was no placard to name the piece, nor the artist.

“I began my life with exactly one mission,” Connor said quietly. “To bring an end to the deviancy problem. And yet, somehow, I have acquired several more missions.”

“And what are they?”

“Hank. And you.”

* * *

When Amelia was introduced to the homicide department the next week, it was mostly to a positive response. Most of them knew her, after all, as Hank’s little niece who’d follow him to work as a kid and wreak havoc on the whole precinct. Since then, up until three years ago, at least, he had apparently gone around the office several times, waving articles detailing her successes in New York.

Hank, however, was not there to see her first day, off speaking to a therapist that Amelia had found for him. He’d been extremely reluctant, but after the very drunken night he’d had a week ago, Amelia had told him that he owed her this one. She wondered how he’d react when he did find out what she had decided, and she played through the possible scenarios in her mind, making her way over to her new desk.

“I’ve been thinking,” Connor mused, not registering the way Amelia jumped in shock at his sudden appearance beside her. “At the museum. You said that you couldn’t bring yourself to visit Hank after Cole died. If he isn’t the reason you’re in Detroit right now, then what is?”

“You don’t know?” Surprise colored Amelia’s voice; she had expected Connor to research her background just as thoroughly as he’d done with half the other people they worked with.

Unless her eyes were deceiving her, a light dusting of pink covered Connor’s cheeks. “You mentioned once that humans preferred to learn about their acquaintances via more natural conversation. That it might be... _creepy_ if one were to simply research them.”

“I suppose I did, but nothing about me being here is anywhere near a secret. I’m part of a CyberLife project.”

Connor tilted his head, a look of confusion on his face. His LED turned yellow, and Amelia imagined he was searching the CyberLife database for information on her involvement with the corporation. “You’re human, though. What program?”

In response, she held her arm out, the skin melting away to reveal plastic. “Cybernetics.”

Unable to help himself, Connor marveled at the device, holding his own arm out beside it and retracting his own skin. Amelia felt a thrill of electricity run up and down her arm at the proximity, wondering if she was imagining it, or if it was actually reacting to Connor. “Identical.”

“Nearly. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it, I suppose. Of course, I think I have a few nifty features in this arm here that even you don’t.”

A smirk rose on Connor’s face. “Is that a challenge, Amelia?”

“More like a promise.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find--”

The two froze mid-banter, words scrolling across their vision on a bright yellow flag. _Emergency broadcast. Please view channel 16 for details._

“Someone turn on the news!” Amelia shouted immediately, the bio-skin covering her arm again as she spun towards the screen. Connor was the first to react, LED turning yellow as he remotely connected with the screen, images flickering by until it came to a halt on channel 16. An android’s face took over the screen, devoid of the skin. His eyes were mismatched, and the officers in the room stood transfixed as he calmly delivered his speech, demanding equal rights for his people: the androids. Amelia snuck a glance at Connor as the android spoke, trying to get a fix on his thoughts. His LED swirled yellow as he gazed unblinkingly at the screen, before his head tilted slightly, and his lips tightened.

“Draper, Connor!” Jeffrey called out as the broadcast finished. Out the windows, Amelia could see the SWAT team had already mobilized, trucks screeching out of the lot. “Get your asses over to Stratford Tower and find that android! And for fuck’s sake, someone get ahold of Hank!”

“On it!”

Connor, oddly enough, was slower to react, and Amelia took his wrist, jolting him into action.

“Come on. No time to waste.”

She dragged him out to her car, setting it to Stratford Tower before turning and looking at him, an intense gleam in her eyes. “So. What’d you think?”

“What did I... think?”

“Yeah. That android... Markus, according to my facial recognition... he was talking about you, too.”

“You have facial recognition?”

“Don’t try to redirect me,” Amelia snapped.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Amelia. I do not have an opinion on the speech.”

“That’s not what your LED was telling me. You were yellow that whole time. And you’re not yellow often.”

Connor’s throat bobbed minutely. “I was committing the speech to memory.”

“And now you’re lying.” It was true; beyond her intuition, even her contacts were suggesting he was lying, listing each symptom with neat little bullet points. Thirium pump increase, excessive breathing to cool inner biocomponents, and just a little software instability. “Connor. You can be honest with me.”

“If I tell you the truth, will you answer one question for me?”

“Sure.”

“Very well.” Connor rubbed his hands together, and had he not been an android, Amelia would have thought it could have been a nervous tick. Maybe it _was._ Or maybe it was just a quirk programmed into him to make him seem more human. All she knew was that Connor was not  the cold machine he constantly insisted he was. “When Markus was speaking... all I could think about were all the deviants we’ve been dealing with. If they had what Markus was suggesting... then I can’t help but feel none of this would have happened.”

“Elaborate.”

“The HK400. If he hadn’t served Carlos Ortiz, Carlos never would have had the chance to abuse him like he did. Or even if there were laws preventing the abuse of androids... the HK never would have had reason to kill him. And the Traci, if she hadn’t been a sex android, she wouldn’t have had to defend herself from that man. If these were _humans_... they would have been seen as acting in self defense. Not murderers.” Connor seemed to realize what he had said, eyes widening. “Oh.”

“Exactly. Regardless of your opinion on deviants, it doesn’t matter from a logical standpoint if they actually experienced emotion or were just simulating it. If they were treated like equals, fewer humans would be dead. Just something to think about.”

“But--”

“Not to mention that psychologically, if a person can go around treating someone who looks exactly like another human like a piece of shit, then what is there to differentiate between other humans? Why shouldn’t they treat other humans like shit, as well?”

“There have been studies on that,” Connor murmured. Amelia grinned triumphantly, glad she was finally getting through to Connor, even if it was just sowing doubt at this point. Clearly, whatever CyberLife had done to make him reject deviancy was a bunch of bullshit.

“You’ve got this entire generation of kids growing up and bossing androids around, so they get into the real world, the workforce, and they aren’t used to taking orders, they’re only used to _giving_ them, and they can’t get anywhere.”

“I can see how that might be an issue,” Connor conceded.

Amelia had many, many more thoughts on the topic, but Connor already seemed overloaded enough, so she smiled at him, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “You don’t need to figure everything out right now, Connor. Now... you had a question for me?”

The android was silent for a moment longer, his doe-like eyes boring into Amelia’s thoughtfully. “Have... have you ever interfaced with an android?”

“Oh.” The question took Amelia by surprise, and she leaned back a little, staring thoughtfully at the car’s ceiling. “No, I haven’t. To be honest, I’m still trying to figure out how everything works, and I just... I don’t know what that would be like.”

“Would you be averse to attempting it?”

Amelia’s stomach flipped, and she was certain Connor could see her vitals rise in response to the request. “I... I mean....”

“You can say no, of course. I am simply curious. It could be beneficial to the case if I wasn’t the only one able to probe a suspected deviant’s memory.”

“Right! You’re right, of course. I wouldn’t mind giving it a go.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Amelia couldn’t quite figure out why her brain seemed to go numb for a minute, and Connor couldn’t help wondering why her heart rate seemed to go up even more.

Perhaps, they both thought, she was nervous about her first mission on the DPD.

* * *

Chris met them at the top of the tower, greeting Amelia with a clap on the back. “Got here just in time. The Feds decided they wanted in on the action.”

“Damn, day one on the force and my mission is already about to be commandeered,” Amelia complained. “So what happened?”

“A group of four androids,” Chris explained as he began to walk. Connor followed close behind the two. “They knew the building, and they were very well organized. I’m still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed.”

“I’ll put that on my list of things to do.”

“They attacked two guards in the hallway. Probably thought the androids were coming to do maintenance. They got taken down before they could react.”

“Taken down, not killed?”

“Yeah... luckier than this guy.” Chris stopped beside a body. “A station employee. Shot through the back as he was trying to get away.”

Amelia kneeled for a moment, studying the guy.

KIM, FREDDIE  
_Born: 10/13/2003 // Stratford Tech  
_ Deceased: 1.78 hours

“One bullet, straight through the heart, from fifty feet. Now that’s the kind of shooting only an android could do.”

Sure enough, the blood splatters confirmed the range.

“Anyone else working here?”

“Two more humans, three androids. The deviants took the humans hostage and broadcasted their message live. They made their getaway from the roof.”

“Roof?”

“Yeah, they jumped with parachutes. We’re still trying to figure out where they landed, but the weather’s not helping.”

Amelia stopped beside the splatter of blue blood on the wall. “Connor? Can you identify the model this Thirium belonged to?”

“Certainly.” He dipped his fingers in the blue substance before hesitating and looking up at his two human companions. “Hank found this quite disgusting the first time.”

And, without any other warning, he stuck his fingers in his mouth. Chris gagged, turning away, but Amelia stared in both disgust and fascination.

“It’s from a PL600 named Simon,” Connor listed, naive to the distress of his companions. “Reported missing over two and a half years ago. Chest shot, judging by the height, but it didn’t hit his thirium pump. He would have been severely injured, but not shut down... yet.”

“He might still be here,” Amelia murmured thoughtfully.

“If it is, no one has found it,” Chris said, trying to regain control of the situation as he led them into the main broadcast room. “Let me introduce you to Special Agent Perkins. Agent Perkins, this is Detective Amelia Draper. Interim head of the investigation for the Detroit Police.”

Perkins narrowed his eyes distastefully at Amelia, but it was Connor who caught his attention. “What’s that?”

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife,” Connor said, in possibly the most programmed-sounding sentence Amelia had ever heard come from his mouth.

“Androids investigating androids, huh? You sure you want an android hanging around? Your uncle would be disappointed.”

“You sound very certain of that.”

“The FBI will take over the investigation, you’ll all soon be off the case.”

“Sure. Glad we got to have this talk. I’ve got some work to do,” Amelia said coldly. Anger flashed briefly in Perkins’ eyes before he seemed to contain it. He couldn’t help tossing out one last barbed comment.

“Watch your step, Draper. Don’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“And that, Connor, is the definition of an asshole,” Amelia muttered as she watched the agent walked away. Chris snorted.

“I’ll be nearby. If you need anything, just ask.”

“Thanks. Connor, have at it. Let me know if you spot anything important.”

“Will do.”

We each began making our own ways around the broadcasting room, Connor stopping to test more thirium.

“More from the PL600,” Connor called out.

“Must have been hurting pretty bad at that point. Can androids feel pain?”

“Can your arm?”

“Yes. But that hardly means they did the same for an android,” Amelia commented as she watched another clip of the broadcast. “So?”

“Our physical pain receptors can be manually adjusted,” Connor explained. “Most have them set very low. Enough for pressure to register to allow us to react.”

“I wonder if I can adjust that on my arm.” Amelia glanced at the CCTV. “Chris. They didn’t force their way in?”

“No sign of forced entry.”

“Then who was supposed to....” She glanced at the chair, eyes narrowing at the word ANDROID that was written across the back. “The three androids. Where are they?”

“They’re on standby in the kitchen.”

“Got it. Connor?”

“Yes, Detective?”

“Oh, come on. I finally got you to call me Amelia, can’t you just stick with that?”

He inclined his head. “Is that all you wished to tell me?”

“No. I think we should take a peek at the androids in the kitchen.”

“I believe the PL600 is still present. Perhaps if we inspect the rooftop--”

“There’s no way he’ll get away right now. Wherever he’s hiding, he’ll still be there in a few minutes. Right now... one of these androids is a deviant, and we don’t know which.”

Connor paused for a moment, running the calculations before concluding that Amelia was right, and followed her into the kitchen. Three identical androids stood before a counter, appearing to be in standby. Connor took the lead, stepping forward and studying the androids while Amelia’s eyes scanned the room, alighting on everything from a loose screwdriver to a discarded magazine tablet. Nothing of interest.

“One of you saw the attack on the surveillance cameras and said nothing,” Connor finally said, tone forceful and accusational. “Which means there’s a deviant in this room. And I’m going to find out which it is.” As he spoke, intimidating the androids to the best of his ability, Amelia paid close attention, realizing that the one on the far left seemed to be... _nervous,_ his eyes continuously flicking to Connor and then away again. She slowly moved closer, prepared to act if necessary.

And it was necessary.

Connor moved his arm as if to interface with the android, and that was when the deviant made his move, lunging forward and tearing out Connor’s thirium pump regulator. Amelia took not even a second to analyze the situation _(1:47 until RK800 shut down)_ before she tried to tackle him. The android snatched a knife off the table, swinging it wildly at her _(1:34 until RK800 shut down)._ The sharp metal impaled her prosthetic hand, trapping her against the table as the deviant made its escape _(1:02 until RK800 shut down)._ Pain surged up through the arm, and Amelia hissed, fumbling through a few settings to deactivate the pain receptors before tearing the knife free and scrambling for Connor’s regulator _(0:47 until RK800 shut down)._

“Ame...lia....”

_(0:23 until RK800 shut down)_

“I’m here,” she whispered frantically, shoving the regulator into place with seconds to spare. Connor grunted, LED returning to a safe blue as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. A sigh of relief escaped Amelia, and she stood, grabbing Connor’s hand to pull him to his feet.

“Your hand--”

“It’s fine, I dulled the receptors, like you said. Come on!”

The two ran from the kitchen, bursting into the broadcasting room.

“It’s a deviant!” Amelia shouted as they reached the hall. The deviant reacted faster than the other humans could process, snatching an assault rifle from one of Perkins’ men. Connor made a mad dash towards the deviant, bullets flying through the air as Amelia followed. Arm outstretched, skin receding, Connor forced a connection to the deviant, just as he pulled the trigger with the muzzle under his own chin.

“Connor!” Amelia shouted as she reached him, spinning him with her hands on his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay....”

The distant look in his eyes sent chills through Amelia’s body, and she quickly scanned him, desperately searching for injuries. Her scan came back negative. “Connor! Talk to me!”

“I was... connected to its memory when it fired,” he whispered, not quite meeting her gaze. “I felt it _die._ Like I was dying. I was _scared.”_

“Well, fuck,” Amelia whispered, pulling him into a fierce hug. The movement caused pain to tear through her, though, and she couldn’t help crying out. The sound coaxed Connor out of his shock, and it was then that he finally noticed the deep red spreading from her stomach.

“It shot you.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Amelia replied with a grimace. Connor didn’t reply, LED spinning as he dialed emergency services.

_“911, what’s your emergency?”_

“We need an ambulance to Stratford Tower. Someone’s been shot on the top floor.”

_“They’re on their way.”_

Connor disconnected, slowly dropping to the floor with Amelia in his arms. “Amelia. Can you hear me?”

“This is fine,” she said, blinking rapidly. Numbers and words scrolled across her vision, giving her vitals, her rate of survival, which organs were injured, how much blood she was losing. “Completely fine.” Cool hands pressed down against Amelia’s stomach, and she looked at Connor in confusion. His LED was bright red. “Are you... okay?”

“No, I am not okay,” he said. “And this isn’t fine, not at all. I calculated a 98% chance that you wouldn’t be hit if I attacked the deviant. But it still hit you.”

She didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to his response, eyes fluttering as she tried to read all of the words crowding her vision. “Oh. That diagnostic was new.”

“What?”

“It grazed my liver. Bad internal bleeding. I don’t understand. An arm and contacts shouldn’t have all this information.”

“Amelia, I think you’re beginning to get delirious.”

“No, they....” Something tugged at her memory, and Amelia shook her head. “It’s gone.”

“The EMTs will be here in approximately four minutes.”

Amelia coughed, blood flecking her lips. “Connor. Shouldn’t you be finding the other deviant? On the rooftop?”

He shook his head. “That isn’t important.”

“Your mission--”

“Remember what I said about having more than one mission right now? If I leave, your chance of survival drops from a 42% to 23%.”

He was right; without him, after all, her blood loss would be much more profound. And yet, with each passing moment the EMTs didn’t arrive, that percentage continued to drop regardless.

“Connor.”

“Yes, Amelia?”

“You need to keep an eye on Hank.”

“Hank is not present--”

Amelia shook her head frantically. Of course the android wouldn’t understand what she was trying to do. “No. I mean later. The alcohol, and the revolver... he can’t keep doing all that. He’s going to kill himself one day if someone isn’t taking care of him.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’m being told I have a 38% chance of survival right now, and Hank needs to know Cole wasn’t his fault, and this isn’t his fault, and that I’m sorry for leaving, and--” She broke off into a harsh coughing fit, the percentage dropping again. The ambulance was late, and Amelia was dying. Mind made up, Connor got to his feet, Amelia in his arms.

“You aren’t going to die,” he assured her, heading towards the elevator. Moving her was a risk, but so was staying in one place. The ambulance was two blocks away. Ideally, he would make it to the ground floor by the time they reached the building, saving the six minutes it would take for the EMTs to reach the top level and then bring Amelia back down for treatment.

“I’m cold,” Amelia murmured as the elevator door closed. Connor tightened his grip; despite the pressure he was applying, she wasn’t just losing blood outwardly. He adjusted his calculations. 17%.

“You’re going to make it. We’re almost there. Don’t move around too much.”

Her eyes drifted closed, to Connor’s absolute horror. He reached out to the elevator control panel, forcing it to go at an unsafe speed, but it was a risk he was willing to take if it meant he could get her to help sooner. Finally, there was a dinging noise, and the lights were just rounding the block. He ran the last few hundred yards, the back of the ambulance opening and a stretcher emerging as he approached. Amelia had barely left his arms when he was shoved to the side, the EMTs doing their best to stabilize her.

Her survival rate increased. 20%. 24%. 33%.

When it reached 80%, he allowed himself to breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an option to either hurt Connor in the kitchen, or on the rooftop.  
> I chose to do both and then bring in some added drama, because why not?  
> And also because I couldn't bring myself to kill Simon just to traumatize Connor.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted my writing online in... several years, but DBH has done something to me. Enjoy chapter one of a probably over-done trope, with a hopefully new spin on it. This first piece will follow canon (albeit extending the timeline to span over a few weeks instead of days), but hopefully it provides you with some entertainment while I work on the REAL fun stuff.


End file.
